


The Amazing Adventure of Crookshanks the Wondercat In Which The Unthinkable Happens Oh No!

by Lacrima (lege_et_lacrima)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, M/M, No really this is incredibly silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-09
Updated: 2012-06-09
Packaged: 2017-11-07 09:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/429311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lege_et_lacrima/pseuds/Lacrima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Incredibly silly crack-ey oneshot. Very infrequent swearing, and that's about it. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Amazing Adventure of Crookshanks the Wondercat In Which The Unthinkable Happens Oh No!

**Author's Note:**

> I'd just like to say that this is supposed to be incredibly stupid. You take it seriously and you'll be looking quite the fool in a hat.

Crookshanks gambolled up a low hill, chasing the first moth of the night. The moth in question had seen the many lights of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry reflect off the great lake, and assumed that the lake in question was a giant, squid-infested ground-moon. Of course this makes no sense, but neither do moths.

 _Stalk, pounce, miss, play-fall, roll over, spring back up, resume stalking._  Crookshanks was too cool for this silly moth. Silly moth probably thought his feinting was true ineptitude. Silly moth was silly and hence was going to get eaten. Crookshanks-style.

But before he could instigate his Super Crookshanks Sneaky Moth-Nom Feint Move Of Moth-ey Doom For Moths, a very loud and very deep growling came from a nearby large bush, which freaked out the moth and entirely screwed over Crookshank's plans. Bollocks.

Cat-bollocks.

Even more cat-bollocks, as it was revealed that the growling was coming from a superfluously gigantic shaggy black dog, who had just emerged from the shrubbery.

"MROWWW _~"_ Crookshanks yowled, which roughly translates as ' _holy shit Mr Dog you do not need to be that big holy shit the fuck'_

"Grrrrrr" the dog continued, however I do not know what this translates to for I am a cat-narrator and hence do not speak dog.

Unable to be bothered getting into a scuffle with this ludicrous dog, Crookshanks, for want of a better word, scarpered.

Another night, another chapter in the amazing adventure of Crookshanks. Golly, what a cool cat he was. Strutting around with his tail in the air, showing his anus to the world like he just don't care.

But, as if the great cat-gods really didn't like Crookshanks, guess who once again came leaping out of the bushes. Yep, Crookshanks' best friend in the whole wide world, that big-ass dog.

"Meow meow meow" Crookshanks said huffily.  _Oh god not you again. Don't you have anything better to do? Bugger off. I'm busy_.

When in doubt, over-stuff your confidence.

"Woof," the dog replied huskily. "woof woof, arfarfarf."

"Meow."  _I don't speak dog you retarded thing. Why not just go back where you came from and lick your obviously still-there testicles, instead of trying to pick a fight with Crookshanks the Wondercat. Yeah, you heard me. That's my name. I'm a motherfucking wondercat._

But, insofar as cats can't speak Dog, dogs can't speak Cat. And so Crookshanks' wonderful bravado was lost on this horrible, slobbery pooch. In fact, the pooch went so far as to try and  _sniff_  Crookshanks the Wondercat. And that didn't end well.

"MROWHISSS!"

Crookshanks lunged forwards. The dog dove to the side, narrowly avoiding Crookshanks' devastating left hook. The dog responded with a full-body lunge, landing square on top of Crookshanks. Surely this was the tragic end of Crookshanks the Wondercat… but no! What's this? Crookshanks managed to weasel out from under the dog, and got enough leverage to backhand the dog square across the snout, causing the dog to tumble onto his back and roll down the not-very-steep incline towards the lake's shore. Crookshanks, clearly the victor in this debacle, puffed up and rose on his hackles. Clearly, this was the one cat no big-ass dog should ever tussle with.

The dog shook his head in surprise, got to his feet, looked at Crookshanks and made a peculiar noise that sounded almost like a human laugh.

For once, meaning was shared across the species border. The dog respected Crookshanks' pure badassery. And Crookshanks had to agree that the dog wasn't so bad himself.

It was soon after this encounter that Crookshanks and the dog took to meeting up regularly at night to stroll and have one-sided conversations. One-sided, as neither knew what the fuck the other was saying, and so they just talked shit at each other.

"Meow purrr meow meow meow"  _And so this moth he thinks he's so great but I'm like I've coughed up bigger hairballs than you for reverse-breakfast matey so you Mr Moth have not a chance in cat-hell you silly insect and so I laughed proudly and ate him._

"Woof." The dog replied, which Crookshanks interpreted as ' _I am a dog and I like to eat bones and roll in Thestral poop.'_

Honestly, dogs. Crookshanks rolled his eyes.

But as much contempt Crookshanks had for this dog, he couldn't help but feel something about him that he'd never felt before. Kind of like there was something special about this dog. Something he couldn't put his claw on…

"MROWWWW!" The dog jumped back in surprise at Crookshank's sudden outburst, in which Crookshanks' thoughts from several nights before came full-circle to a devastating conclusion. _I am in love with this dog! I… am in love… with a dog! A_ _ **dog**_ _! A_ _ **dog**_ _! Ew dear god this is horrible, more horrible than the time I slept on Owner-Ginger-Friend's feet! More horrible than puke in a hat! Love! Dog!_

All this time, Crookshanks had merely assumed that the something-else about this dog was just that he was an Animagus who wanted information about someone inside the castle or something trivial like that. But this? This… I cannot explain just how terrible this revelation is, for you dear reader are not a cat and do not understand such a horrible situation. It is akin to a biscuit falling in love with a biscuit-eating monster. That is how horrible it is.

Unable to cope with his overwhelming emotions, Crookshanks spun around and darted back into the castle, leaving his beloved dog looking thoroughly confused.

Of course it MUST be love that Crookshanks was feeling as there was no other logical assumption to be made. Every kitty knew that any peculiar association between one animal and another animal was quite obviously true love.

No.

Other.

Explanation.

After much time spent soul-searching and constructing modernist poetry about the uncertainty of his predicament, as Crookshanks was so taken with doing whenever in a particular state of turmoil, Crookshanks decided to cat-man the fuck up and confess his undying love to the dog.

But first he would need a token of love. He went pacing throughout his tower-home looking for something 100% appropriate.

Something special.

Super special.

Super-duper special.

Something super-duper special, like a diamond collar or a declaration in fireworks or a single red rose or… or…

Or this piece of paper with pretty human squiggles on it.

The dog would love it, Crookshanks was sure of it.

They were very pretty squiggles.

Crookshanks tucked the piece of paper into his collar, and it was instantly hidden by his great orange plumage. He was just preparing to leave when Owner's-Ginger-Friend opened the door and shouted something at Crookshanks, which he presumed was a very angry ' _yes Crookshanks that is the greatest love token in the wold you must take it to Mr Dog at once!'_  Why it needed to be so angry-sounding, Crookshanks didn't know. Humans were almost as silly as moths.

In fact, it was argued by the great cat-scholars that they were merely giant wingless moths with thumbs.

Crookshanks darted out the freshly-opened door and waited impatiently for the sun to go down.

Crookshanks stood on the low hill where he always met the dog, awaiting for his future dog-husband to arrive. Yes, his family would be greatly perturbed by him eloping with a dog, but disownership was merely a trifle compared to the love he quite obviously shard with this dog. It was twoo wuv, and nobody could convince Crookshanks otherwise.

Zounds! The dog approached. Crookshanks shook his head until the pretty squiggled paper came dislodged and landed on the ground. Crookshanks nudged it over to the dog's feet. The dog stared at it incredulously (for it is obvious that he too realised the amazingness of this romantic object), and Crookshanks launched into his carefully-prepared speech in which he declared his undying love.

Sorry, but I'm too lazy to transcribe his entire speech, because if t was fully translated and typed out it would go for several pages. Cat-speech is much more succinct.

And, lo, the speech must have worked. The dog seemed to be grinning, almost like a person, as he snatched up the piece of paper and ran off towards the forest.

Obviously he was fetching a wedding chariot to whisk Crookshanks off in so they could run away and live happily ever after in Paraguay or some such.

Crookshanks waited for three goddamn hours before turning on his tail and going up to bed. If the dog wanted him, he could romantically rouse him from his slumber.

The next evening, as Crookshanks dozed on a comfy chair by the fireplace, the people-entrance swung open and in tiptoed a very scruffy looking man.

Crookshanks would not have given half a smelly turd about this plot development, aside from the fact that this fellow  _smelled exactly like his beloved dog!_

There was only one explanation.

This was the dog's owner.

He had a knife.

Oh dear god.

He wanted to kill Crookshanks for wanting to steal away his beloved dog!

Obviously this human also loved the dog!

Scary.

Faced with insurmountable danger, Crookshanks did the most sensible thing he could possibly think of.

He pretended to be a cushion and waited for the bad man to go away.

A short time later, chaos ensued. Crookshanks had concluded he was safe by the fact that he had been roused by a hundred million screaming humans upstairs. Rough estimate of numbers, but surely 99% accurate.

Oh dear, Crookshanks and the dog would have to be much more careful with their secret love affair in the future. There were _murderers_  involved, for kitty lkitter's sake! Ones with knifes and menacing moustaches! (Or so Crookshanks assumed. He hadn't actually seen the man's face, but he must have had a moustache. Surely the dog found moustaches a big turn off. And so the man obviously had a moustache. Cat logic for the win.)

This would be one hell of a romantic adventure.

Such a shame I'm too lazy to document the rest; I plan to have a nap.

Meow.


End file.
